


Sweet Child O' Mine

by MusicalDoodler



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Father-Daughter Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:42:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22541941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalDoodler/pseuds/MusicalDoodler
Summary: Pickles was used to his voice being heard constantly and globally. Being the lead singer once, his singing was on every record and radio.But now that's behind him. He's the drummer. No one has heard him sing since the ol' glam days except an extremely select few.It was Lasagna's first few nights in Mordhaus and a storm had her uneasy. He'd have to make an exception for tonight.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	Sweet Child O' Mine

**Author's Note:**

> My first ao3 fic! as u can see I suck at tags and formatting but go easy on me :,) it's a lil short, ik-- a lot more on Lasagna is on my tumblr, if y'all are curious abt her! (@/musicaldoodler)

2 o'clock in the morning. 

Pickles groaned as he massaged the bridge of his nose. It sure was a long day of downing beers, hanging with girls, and recording ONE song for the new album. Though in retrospect, Nathan kept insisting they re-do it multiple times. No amount of "please? fer me?" would settle his insane nitpicking when it came to their tracks.

Anyway. Pickles was looking forward to getting about 40 winks for his 'troubles' right about now. Unfortunately Skwisgaar's furious moaning, along with a few... older voices, in the other room decided otherwise. Fine. Whatever. Nothing he wasn't used to. 

Pickles' tired feet begrudgingly stumbled over and off his bed as he kicked around a few empty beers and shirts on his floor. May as well take a walk around, see who's awake. 

It was pretty damn dark in Mordhaus, save for a few scattered lights. Pair that with a slight buzz, and he even nearly lost his balance. Though evidently, the booze didn't impair his hearing.

"Pickles!" 

He must have looked hilarious, twisting around clumsily to find the owner of the meek little call. It wasn't until he saw a tiny face staring at him through a crack in a door, similar to that of a deer in headlights, that he stood still.

Aw shit. He forgot Lasagna was staying in one of the spare rooms. 

"Pickles! Pick--"

"I'm comin', I'm comin'..." 

He trotted into the room, which was almost completely bare. Just a bed, a tv, a closet, and a window. Maybe it wasn't such a million dollar idea to leave a small kid alone in here.

"Awright, what's eatin' ya?" Pickles questioned as he plopped down on the side of the little girl's bed with a slight "oof!". "Yer lucky Skwisgaar got me up or I wouldn't a' found ya." 

Radio static, as always. Lasagna wasn't much of a talker. Though they only had her for about 4 full days. She grimaced as she clung onto her covers.

"C'mon kid, ya can't just cry wolf and go quiet. I got all the time in the world for once." 

Nothing. 

"Fine, I'll go--"

"NO!" he finally coaxed out of her. She frowned as she shakily pointed a finger at the window. Thunder, a classic.

Pickles smirked. "Ohhhh, the storm's scaring ya, huh?" he concluded. She nodded. "I mean, I can close the window for ya, but..." 

He could tell that wasn't enough for her. She scrambled out of the bed to sit next to him, clinging onto his arm. Poor thing was pretty shaken up. Out of all the things that were definitely not child-safe in Mordhaus to put it nicely, this is what drew the line?

Well, he wanted to be a better dad than his own. This is what good dads do, right?

"What can I do t' make it better?" he sighed.

"Mom" she murmured softly in response. Wow, punch to the gut there.

"We're workin' on that," he draped an arm around the child comfortingly. "What else?"

"Mom sings." she clarified. 

Pickles hadn't sung for anyone in a long time. During the glam days, it came naturally to him. Everyone heard his voice. But things were different now. He was a drummer, and only sang on rare occasions to a select few.

Well, Lasagna was his daughter, after all. Sure it felt weird, and they were practically strangers just a couple days ago, but she was, strictly speaking, his little girl. Not only that, but she strongly resembled himself to boot. 

Eh, he felt comfortable enough to sing around her. Not in a dumb, unbrutal way. Just to get her to pipe down, y'know?

"Want me to do it this time?" 

Another quiet nod. Followed shortly by a sigh.

"She's got a smile it seems to me  
Reminds me of childhood memories  
Where everything  
Was as fresh as the bright blue sky  
Now and then when I see her face  
She takes me away to that special place  
And if I'd stare too long  
I'd probably break down and cry"

For the first time in a while, Lasagna actually began to come out of her shell and warm up to him. The sniffs and shivers were reduced to nothing as she leaned her head on his chest, huddled next to him. It gave him a warm feeling in his heart, and encouraged him to continue.

"She's got eyes of the bluest skies  
As if they thought of rain  
I hate to look into those eyes  
And see an ounce of pain  
Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place  
Where as a child I'd hide  
And pray for the thunder  
And the rain  
To quietly pass me by..." 

A couple minutes passed and Pickles soon yawned as he glanced down at the little bundle of red beneath him. Fast asleep already, after one song. But nevermind that-- he felt like he got to experience something he never got the chance to as a kid. Not only that, but holding and bonding with something he had a part in creating felt so surreal and strange...

Maybe this whole dad thing was one of his better ideas.


End file.
